Life is like a 5th grade slumber party: a mix of love, friendship, gossip, food, laughs, heartache, and cute pajamas.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Fiddle-de-dee! The last of the grits and Luzianne

I knew the day would come. I just didn't expect it to be today. My very last Luzianne teabag is steeping for my very last Suth'n-brewed jug of iced tea. The last, that is, until I'm able to replenish my supply of Luzianne. Man, I thought I had a couple more bags left, I really did. Now the temp's in the 80s and 90s and I'm out of iced tea fixin's. Aaargh!

The other sad news is that I ran out of grits a couple of weeks ago. Usually, I only cook them up on the weekends when I have a little more time to savor a bowl of my lovely jalepeno-cheesey concoction. Now, that little pleasure's gone, too. Shoot!

I'm vaguely planning a trip to Atlanta the first part of August, mainly because I must consolidate my two storage units and get the stuff I had to leave behind in a better place. Nothing definite set, though. But now, I have a real emergency, so that should spur my reservation-making.

Guess I'll have to make do with the old Lipton stuff until I get back down South. And I'll just have to be grit-less for a few months. Ah, me. Where are the Tarleton twins when you need 'em?

Neither, actually. You see, I don't really care for mint juleps, preferring a true Southern gentleman's toddy of Black Jack on the rocks with a splash of branch. More of a Rhett, I suppose, but then, you probably don't really give a damn, my dear.

Wow! Someone who actually eats grits and understands that not all ice tea is the same! I guess I've gotten used to Lipton...but I do find grits in the supermarkets here. Though (I hate to admit this) I often end up making instant grits cause the mornings are so rushed.

Em, I often have grits as an evening snack, making enough for the next morning. And, you're right, I have seen instant grits in NYC, but, well, just not the same (but I certainly appreciate the morning time limitations). Winston to the rescue, though!

Yes, I guess I could order grits and Luzianne online, but a true Southern belle would rather a Southern gentleman come to her rescue (thank you, Winston). It's just part of our charming, manipulative nature that Yankee-girls hate us for! ;-)

Oh, Mary. We Yankee girls don't hate you, we just have a different way of charming/manipulating our men. We wish the "come save me" attitude would work, but the Yankee boys would surely say "do it yourself." So instead we're left to be cool and mysterious. I think it's more of getting them to chase us than calling upon them to help us. Unless it's opening a jar, then we're all helpless ;)